A New Addition
by BenAddiction
Summary: There's a new addition to 221B Baker Street of the four legged variety. This will hopefully be a multi chapter fic. Just friendship at the moment. I don't own Sherlock, this is just for fun. Chapter 3 is up, some angst in this one as Mycroft finally makes an appearance. Please review.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock, if I did, we would not have to wait until the autumn for more episodes ;)

Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed, followed or favourited any of my stories. I hope this one doesn't disappoint too much. Please review (please be kind)

Chapter One.

Sherlock eased himself down into a squat as he carried on putting the surgical gloves on his hands (his only concession to the need for forensic sterility). His eyes roamed over the body of the young man lying face down on the tarmac in front of him, each glance picking up every detail of the scene. Carefully he picked up the man's right hand to examine it more closely, delicately moving each finger in turn.

John and Greg looked on in anticipation, having cleared the area of police and forensic officers before any blows were exchanged following Sherlock's and Anderson's latest spat.

'Well, what can you give me? I need to get this guy Sherlock, this is the third suspicious death with the same M.O. In two weeks.' asked Greg.

Hm, well obviously it's a domestic gone wrong. Really not worth my time. Surely even you could see that Lestrade' replied Sherlock as he pushed himself back into a standing position.

'But ... it's the same M.O.! What do you mean "A domestic gone wrong"?' cried Greg in exasperation.

'Precisely what I have just said, I do so dislike repeating myself Lestrade. How do you survive every day life if you are this stupid?' asked Sherlock with incredulity.

'Sherlock!' warned John, glaring slightly at his flatmate.

Sherlock huffed as he walked away, pulling his gloves off as he did so.

'Talk to the girlfriend, he fell from a first floor window, probably the bedroom, during an argument on to the pavement below.' came Sherlock's voice, his boredom evident in the tone.

'No! Shep! Get back here NOW!' the shout caused everyone in the vicinity, including Sherlock, to raise their heads and look in the direction of the police cordon. Seemingly out of nowhere a border collie dog came running towards the crime scene with Sergeant Donovan in hot pursuit. Sherlock, John and Greg had all frozen in surprise at the initial shout. The movement of the dog, however, galvanised John and Greg into action. They each moved to try to intercept the dog's path.

John attempted a rugby tackle in front of the animal, but the dog just jumped over his prone body as though it was an obstacle in a dog show assault course leaving John breathlessly lying on the ground.

Greg fared even less well, having run in completely the wrong direction.

Sherlock however hadn't moved. 'Halt!' Sherlock stated, with an air of authority in his deep voice.

The dog came to a stop and looked at Sherlock, then he looked back at the crime scene, apparently undecided as to what he should do.

'Come here, Shep' Sherlock's voice again had the unmistakable tone of command, and the dog trotted over to the young consulting detective.

Sherlock removed his hand from his coat pocket and held it out to the dog. Shep sniffed and then licked the offered hand. He then positioned his head in such a way that Sherlock's hand was resting on it. Sherlock began to absent mindedly stroke the dog's head.

During this time, John began to get to his feet, this was hampered a little by the fact that he was gaping at Sherlock as though he had grown two heads.

'Erm ... Sherlock, what did you do?'

'I prevented the dog from contaminating the crime scene, John, obviously' replied Sherlock with a hint of puzzlement in his voice.

'B-but I didn't think you'd like dogs' stammered John, completely gob smacked with his self-proclaimed sociopathic friend.

'Why would you think that?' asked Sherlock, bemused.

'Well, you've never really mentioned animals at all. Didn't you have any pets when you were growing up then Sher?' John asked as a slight smile began to grow at the corner of his mouth.

'Hm? No, Mycroft is allergic to most domestic animals and Mummy suffered from Herpetophobia.' Sherlock replied a little wistfully as he continued to stroke the dog's head.

'Don't touch that dog, Freak!' Sally Donovan walked up to Sherlock and Shep. 'Come here Shep love, leave the Freak alone, and come on over to me, there's a good little doggy.'she said to the dog, speaking as though she was talking to a two year old child.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and continued stroking the dog which had remained exactly where he was, ignoring the sergeant's voice. As Donovan reached out her hand to grab the dog's collar to pull him towards her, he growled, a low and menacing sound. Sally yanked her hand back like a piece of elastic.

'That dog's dangerous, it should be put down' stated Sally fearfully.

'No, he's just got good taste' replied Sherlock with a smirk, his hand still on Shep's head.

'Whose dog is he anyway?' asked John, as he walked over, a slight limp in his right leg from the argument with the pavement earlier when he was trying to apprehend the dog.

Sherlock gave him "The Look".

'What ... we're not all brilliant like you, you know.'

'Freak' coughed Sally. The dog growled again, however John, Greg and Sherlock decided it would be easier to just ignore Donovan, and hope she would take the hint.

'He belongs to the victim, we're just waiting for someone from the RSPCA to come and collect him.' answered Greg. 'I would imagine they'll take him to Battersea and try and re home him.

At this point Sherlock's head shot up and he stared beseechingly at John.

'Ah ... no, not going to happen, Sherlock, we are not keeping him.'

'But John, he'll be put in to kennels.' Sherlock looked across at John, his eyes welling up with tears.

'You're not going to manipulate me Sherlock, we can't afford a dog, and I would be the one to always have to take care of it so ... No!' John was trying valiantly to ignore the feeling of guilt that had settled in his chest as he said all of this to Sherlock (the dog really did look so lovely and John had always been a bit of a sucker for border collies), but he was going to stick to his guns, and he wouldn't allow Sherlock to overrule him. He was adamant!

Half an hour later, the taxi pulled up to the kerb outside 221 Baker Street. After the fare was paid, John and Sherlock got out and stood on the pavement, closely followed by Shep. A slight smile graced Sherlock's face as he and Shep walked up to the door and entered.

John eventually brought up the rear, quietly grumbling to himself as he tried to work out how he could have possibly lost the argument regarding Shep. When he finally got up the stairs to the flat with all of the shopping bags (they had stopped off at a pet supplies shop on the way home), and saw Sherlock sat on the sofa with Shep's head resting on his knee, John decided it would probably be easier and a lot less hassle if he just accepted it and gave in gracefully, so he just flopped into his chair, took a deep breath and relaxed.

Chapter Two: A visit from Mycroft.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Okay, Apologies - I know I said at the end of chapter one, the next chapter would be Mycroft's visit, but this popped into my head and wouldn't leave. I fully intend to write Mycroft's visit for my next chapter.

Thank you Janie17 for your lovely review, and Rouge Singer and Werewolf007 for following this story I hope you enjoy this chapter, sorry it's not what I promised.

Disclaimer: I still don't own Sherlock :(

Chapter Two

The following morning, John woke up when his alarm went off after a surprisingly restful night's sleep. Surprising because Sherlock had recently started playing his violin at 3a.m. On the dot. This had begun just over a week ago, and John still didn't know the exact reason for it, because when questioned, Sherlock had merely said that it was for an experiment he was conducting.

'That's odd' he thought, not that he was complaining in any way, because Sherlock's "experiments" usually lasted a lot longer. Determined to make the most of the rest, John decided to have a lie in, as he wasn't due at the surgery until later in the week.

Eventually, John became aware of a voice rumbling in the background. As he listened, he realised that Sherlock must be talking to someone.

'Hm, Lestrade must be here, I guess there's been another murder' he thought as he climbed out of bed and collected his dressing gown that was draped over the chair next to his dressing table. Grabbing his mobile and watch as he left the room, he quickly wrapped the dressing gown around his boxer short clad body to ward off the chill of the flat as he began to make his way downstairs to the living room.

As he got nearer to the bottom of the stairs however, he became aware that he could only hear Sherlock's voice. Now because John and Sherlock had been sharing the flat for a reasonable amount of time, John had grown used to hearing Sherlock's monologues. This one did however, sound a little different, and as John walked closer to the living room door, it took a considerable amount of willpower to prevent the laughter that was bubbling up in his chest from bursting out of his mouth.

'Now, Shep, are you listening? ... good. So, this' at this point, John could hear papers being moved around on the coffee table 'is John, yes **John** ... now ... we like John don't we? John is nice ... Shep are you listening to me, look at the photo! As I was saying ... John is good. He is the one who will be feeding you and taking you for walks, no not right now Shep he's asleep and he gets cranky if he's woken up unexpectedly, I must show you my notes on an experiment I conducted recently on this phenomenon. Now as I said, he will be the one most likely to be looking after you so be nice to him, that's important Shep, don't forget!'

By this point, on the other side of the living room door, John had put his left fist into his mouth and was biting down on his knuckles in a vain attempt to stop the giggles in his throat from bursting forth. His shoulders were shaking in merriment and tears were forming in his eyes as he fought for control.

'Oh God, breathe! Sherlock and Shep, I'm not sure I'm going to be able to survive this' thought John, as he tried to calm his breathing. He finally calmed down enough to focus once again on what was happening in the other room.

'Okay, so finally we have Mycroft, that's **My** ... **croft**, okay Shep? Now, the thing you need to know about Mycroft is ... he's dangerous and not nice okay, we don't like Mycroft, though not in the same way as not liking Anderson, you remember Anderson, I told you about him earlier, he's stupid. Mycroft however, is not stupid and is therefore dangerous. Don't forget that Shep.' At this point Sherlock stopped speaking.

After several minutes had passed, John felt himself to finally be in enough control to enter the living room. He swiftly made his way to the kitchen, virtually ignoring the curly haired detective and his dog.

'Morning John.'

'Oh, um ... morning Sherlock' replied John hesitantly.

'You were listening at the door then' stated Sherlock.

John turned back to face Sherlock, his eyes shining with undisguised mirth and his his lips curling up into a grin. 'Yes ... yes I did. So I'm nice, am I ... I'm good?'

'It's important that Shep understands the people in my life, and the role they have' Sherlock replied, bristling slightly as a hurt look flickered across his face.

John sighed and lowered his chin to his chest as Sherlock's tone brought a stab of guilt to his chest. He then raised his head and looked across at his flatmate.

'Sher, I'm not laughing at you, truly I'm not, please don't be offended.'

Sherlock huffed and looked away, so John, realising there wasn't much more he could say until Sherlock decided to forgive him, turned back to the kitchen counter and began making himself a cup of tea. As a peace offering, he reached up to into the cupboard and took down another mug to make a cup for Sherlock.

After the tea had been made, he took both mugs into the living room and placed one on the coffee table near Sherlock's head which was resting on the arm of the sofa. Sherlock reached over, picked up the mug and took a small sip, as he put it back onto the table he smiled slightly at John, who smiled back pleased that he had been forgiven. John then sat down in his chair, and was just about to take his own sip of his tea when he was interrupted by a knock at the door.

'Yoo hoo, boys, are you decent?' Mrs. Hudson called as she entered the flat.

'Morning Mrs. Hudson, can I get you a cup of tea, the kettle's just ...' John was interrupted before he could finish what he was about to say.

'Oh my, is that a ... dog?' Mrs. Hudson had come to a complete standstill just inside the door as soon as she noticed Shep, who was sitting with his head resting on the sofa near Sherlock's hand.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. ' How very astute of you Mrs. Hudson' boredom colouring his tone.

'Sherlock!' warned John, 'play nice.'

John then took a deep breath and looked across at his landlady.

'I knew bringing an animal into rented accommodation was going to cause a problem' he thought, worry clouding his ocean blue eyes.

'Yes, it is a dog, Mrs. Hudson, we ... um ... acquired him yesterday. I realise ... that pets probably aren't allowed within our rental agreement, and I am truly sorry. We'll ... erm ... we'll find him somewhere else to live, I promise, it just may take us a few days.' At this point Sherlock looked up at John with big puppy dog eyes full of tears and John looked down in sorrow.

'What?' Mrs Hudson looked across at John, as she had been staring at the dog since first noticing him. 'Don't be silly, he's adorable, we had a border collie when I was growing up, Ben he was called. He was so intelligent, for a dog, I mean.' Mrs. Hudson giggled a little at this. 'So what's his name?'

'He's called Shep.' replied John a little warily. 'Are you sure you don't mind us keeping him? I mean we do only rent this flat, and rentals don't normally allow pets. I should have thought of that yesterday. It was a bit of an impulse thing to be perfectly honest.'

'Of course I don't mind.' Sherlock beamed at this. 'He'll be a bit of company for me when you boys are off gallivanting around London getting up to goodness knows what.' replied Mrs. Hudson as she walked up to the dog and proceeded to make a fuss of him.

John relaxed back into his chair, a relieved smile on his face.

'Oh thank God!' he thought 'Sherlock would have been unbearable if they'd had to look into rehoming Shep so soon after getting him.'

Please review (please be kind)


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I was planning on uploading this chapter at the weekend, but I had a cold last week, so it took me longer to write than I expected. Also because I felt rough this chapter has more angst than the other chapters as I was feeling a little sorry for myself :( When writing this chapter I realised that I had made a slight error when I said in Ch.1 that Mycroft suffered from allergies, luckily the internet is a wondrous thing, I found a website that said that pet allergies can have a wide range of severity (from very mild to extremely dangerous), for the purposes of this story I went with the very mild. If this is incorrect I apologise.

Disclaimer: I still don't own Sherlock : so on with the chapter.

Chapter Three

The key turned in the lock, and John pushed open the outer door to 221 Baker Street. As the gap grew wider, Shep pushed his way past John's legs and entered, pulling slightly at the lead held in John's hand.

'Give me a minute Shep!' huffed John as he struggled to remove the key from the lock and close the door behind him.

Shep began pulling in earnest towards the stairs leading up to the flat, yelping in excitement. Just as John finally managed to pull the key away from the door, the lead slipped from his hand and Shep, realising he was free, leapt up the stairs, his lead trailing behind. Upon reaching the top and finding the door closed, Shep began whining as he scratched at the wooden door.

'John!' bellowed Sherlock, from inside the flat. 'Shep wants to get in,' not seeming to realise that he was alone since John had taken Shep out for a walk some forty minutes earlier.

John trudged wearily up the stairs, not bothering to answer his flatmate. Having realised that he needed John to let him into the flat, Shep started moving between John and the door as if trying to tell John to hurry up.

'Yes, yes, I'm coming Shep' John sighed as he finally reached the top step.

Immediately upon entering, Shep made a beeline for Sherlock, who was laying sprawled on the sofa. John stood in the doorway looking down at his friend.

'Been busy then?' remarked John with a touch of sarcasm lacing his voice.

'Hm?' Sherlock raised his head from where it had been resting on the arm of the sofa, lifting the hand not currently stroking Shep's head, to run through his own curly hair in an effort to bring a semblance of order to the chaos. 'Yes, I've been thinking.'

'Right, yes, good ... that's good, wouldn't want you to strain yourself or anything' replied John as he made his way into the kitchen to start getting Shep's food ready.

'You're upset' stated Sherlock, sitting up and placing his feet on the floor as Shep rested his head on the sofa cushion next to him.

'I'm tired Sher, I go to the surgery most days, then I'm running around after you all night. I've got the dog to take care of, and you just lie there "Thinking"' at this point John raised his hands in a quotation mark gesture. He gave a long, deep sigh, 'would it kill you to make an effort, just once ... please?'

'You knew what I was when you moved in. I have never pretended to be something I am not John.' replied Sherlock as fear flickered momentarily in his eyes, before being ruthlessly forced away. 'Do you wish to end our association?'

John ran his hand through his hair and sighed again. 'No ... no of course not. I just ... I'm tired.'

'Go to bed John, I'll make up Shep's food, you're obviously no use to man or beast like this.' Sherlock rose from the sofa and walked into the kitchen. Once there he removed the tin of dog food from John's hand and put it down on to the kitchen table. He then lightly held John's shoulders as he spun him away, then placed his hand between John's shoulder blades and gave a light push in the direction of the stairs.

John stumbled slightly as he made his way up to his room, and was grateful when he reached the bed as he flopped down on to it and fell asleep.

Several hours passed before John awoke from his refreshing sleep. As he came back to full conciousness, it took him a moment to remember all that had happened. As the memory of his disagreement with Sherlock came back to him, he raised his hand to his face, covered his eyes and groaned wishing he could sink back into oblivion, even though he knew that he would have to face his flatmate sooner or later.

Even though John knew that Sherlock had proclaimed himself to be a sociopath many years before, he knew without a shadow of a doubt that he had never met, or indeed would ever meet, anyone less sociopathic than Sherlock Holmes. The very last thing John wanted was to cause Sherlock pain. John sighed, and got to his feet, deciding as he did so that he could justifiably put it off a few moments longer by changing his clothes from the ones he had slept in to fresh ones.

When John finally made his way downstairs, he found to his surprise that the living room and kitchen were empty, indeed it appeared that the entire flat was empty as Sherlock's coat and scarf, and Shep's lead were not on the hooks near the door. John picked up his mobile from the coffee table and checked for messages. When he found that there were none, he sent one of his own.

'Where are you? JW' He received a reply immediately.

'Regent's Park with Shep. SH'

'Case? JW'

'No. Shep needed walk. Feel better? SH'

'Yes, much, thanks. Sorry for earlier. JW'

'No apology needed. Back soon SH'

John smiled when he read the last text from Sherlock, pleased that his grumpiness had been forgiven. He really hated falling out with his flatmate.

A short time later, after Sherlock and Shep had returned, Sherlock was just in the middle of bemoaning the fact that 1) he was bored, and 2) there were no decent criminals in London any more, when there was a short, sharp knock on the door, which opened to reveal Mycroft standing with one hand on the door handle and the other resting on the ever present umbrella.

'Good evening Sherlock, John'

'Oh, evening Mycr...'

'What do you want Mycroft?' interrupted Sherlock. 'Go away!'

'Now, now little brother, that's not very polite is it?' Mycroft answered, his lips twisting into their habitual smirk. Sherlock huffed, folded his arms and turned away, looking for all the world like a toddler who failed to get his own way.

John stood up and began to make his way into the kitchen.

'Would you like a cup of tea Mycroft?' he asked.

'That would be lovely, thank you John.' Mycroft replied as he walked further into the flat. During this exchange, Shep, who had been lightly snoozing with his head resting on Sherlock's right foot, woke up. He stood up and walked over to where Mycroft was now sitting, so that he could investigate this new person in his territory.

Sherlock grinned at this, remembering how Shep had reacted to Donovan a couple of days ago. However when Sherlock looked across at his brother a moment later, it was very obvious that a different outcome from the scenario in his head was taking place.

Shep was resting his head on Mycroft's knee and Mycroft was gently stroking him. Sherlock's jaw dropped in complete surprise and he appeared to have been rendered speechless. Mycroft looked at the expression on Sherlock's face and his smirk grew even more pronounced.

'Problem Sherlock?' he asked as he continued to stroke Shep's head.

Sherlock frowned as jealousy replaced the shock in his eyes.

'Here you are Mycr ... ' John brought in the tea from the kitchen and was momentarily surprised by the scene in front of him, 'aren't you allergic to dogs? Sherlock said that was the reason he never had one as a child.'

'It was only ever a mild reaction, similar to a mild form of hay fever I suppose. Though mummy did worry so when I sneezed. I took some anti-histamines before I arrived, so I'll be fine for a couple of hours, though I wouldn't mind the use of a clothes brush before I leave.' Mycroft replied.

'Um ... of course, no problem, you can wash your hands too. You know you're very lucky, I've seen cases where pet allergies have brought on anaphylactic shock.' answered John.

'Yes, I know, it can be devastating, and thank you John the use of your sink is very kind of you.'

'Shep! Come here!' Sherlock's deep baritone voice resonated around the living room.

Shep moved away from Mycroft and walked over to Sherlock with his tail firmly between his legs, upset that he had angered his new master in some way.

'Sherlock?' cried John.

'He's my dog, Mycroft! Mine! Stay away from him!' Sherlock scowled at his older brother.

'Oh for God's sake, Sherlock, must you be like this all the time? You know how mummy hated it when we fought.' replied Mycroft, exasperation crossing his face, as he fought to keep his temper with his little brother. 'You always were too possessive.'

'I mean it Mycroft! Stay away!' Sherlock's eyes blazed in fury.

'I think you'd better go Mycroft,' John's softly spoken words cut through the mounting tension as he handed him the clothes brush. 'You can leave the brush with Mrs. Hudson, I'm sure she'll be happy for you to use her kitchen to wash your hands.'

Mycroft took hold of the brush and thanked John as he stood up and walked to the door. As he reached it, he turned back, and said, with a look of sorrow on his face. 'You need to grow up Sherlock, you can't keep acting like a child.' He then turned and left, closing the door quietly behind him.

John looked across at Sherlock, unsure what to say to the young genius. ' Sher ...'

Sherlock brought his feet up onto the sofa and laid back, resting his head on the arm of the sofa and closed his eyes. After a few seconds had passed, he raised his hands to his face and placed them into a prayer position next to his lips.

John watched all of this with sadness in his eyes, and Shep rested his head next to Sherlock's hip and gave a soft whine. Sherlock lowered one hand to Shep's head and peaked out from under his lashes at John stood nearby. John's lips curved slightly into a soft, gentle smile.

'I'm off to bed, goodnight Sherlock.'

'Goodnight John.'

Please review (please be kind).


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